


If i could fly away (I'd never come back)

by bubblegumgirl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon!Stiles, F/M, M/M, Pre-Slash, wing fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-15 13:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblegumgirl/pseuds/bubblegumgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well we all have our secrets. Mine just happens to have wings.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys :)  
> so, um, i really have no idea where this fic came from, im going to blame it on the lack of sleep and mid semester exams i should be studying for, because inspiration always hits when you actually have shit to do :/
> 
> i am planning on writing a second chapter, fyi, because i really cant leave the story there, it would break my heart. plus im like, two paragraphs into the second chapter so it would be a waste of perfectly good (i use the term good her relatively) writing :)
> 
> this is my first time writing a teen wolf fic, so any comments would be greatly appreciated, and possibly rewarded with imaginary cookies :P 
> 
> also, unbetaed so sorry for any grammar and/or spelling mistake, just point them out to me in a comment and i'll fix it  
> Enjoy!!

Stiles doesn’t get angry. He doesn’t. Oh sure, he gets pissed off, annoyed or even frustrated, but very few people have ever seen him really, truly angry, and there’s a reason for this, a good one. Most people just think of Stiles as that annoying kid who has a smile and a sarcastic response for every occasion, which is fine, because he is that kid, he likes being that kid, but what most people don’t see is the iron clad control, masking the power that twists and knots beneath his skin. They don’t see the tight grip he has on his anger, the way he funnels it into other things like sarcasm and research, using his words to fight, never his fists, because otherwise, things could get very bad.

Stiles is furious. He can feel the heat simmering in his blood, the power racing, surging through his bones. Phantom pinpricks of sensation tease his skin, travelling around and around his body until they settle on his back, where his secret lays hidden, making his shoulders itch in an almost maddening way. Well, one of his secrets. But for now, Stiles holds back, he knows to wait until the moment is right.

 

*.*.*

 

He knows they have them, he knew the moment they took them, the surge of panic and adrenaline that raced through the Pack connection as they tried to fight back warned him. He didn’t need the frantic phone call from Mrs McCall, or the sharp scent of blood that stained the air at the Hale house to know they were in trouble. He knows where they are too; no amount of werewolf stealth can hide the scent of Pack from him if he looks for it hard enough, not that they’re hiding particularly well, they still want the little human to find them.

His feet make no noise as he picks his way through the forest, avoiding rocks and sticks as he follows the tang of anticipation that sharpens the wind as it twists and bends through the maze of trees. The world is silent around him, the animals pausing their night-time activities as their instincts tell them to be afraid, be very afraid of the strange man who smells like Predator. The animals know to follow their instincts, even if they don’t exactly know why.

The forest opens up to a clearing, he can see where the Pack is tied together on one side. Thick chains wrapped around them all, the length of it twisting and crossing over so many times it is hard to distinguish one end from another. The faint but unmistakable, scent of burning flesh warns him that they aren’t just iron. The alphas are spread out around the clearing, no real attempt made to establish a perimeter. But then why would they bother? They were only waiting for some fragile little human after all, no one special and certainly no one to be scared of. Frankly, he was surprised they had bothered trying to set a trap for him at all; hunting him down would have seemed much easier. Maybe they hadn’t wanted to risk warning the Sheriff or the Argents of their presence, the hunters still thought of him as an Innocent. Although if they hadn’t wanted the Argents attention kidnapping their daughter wasn’t the brightest plan in the world. Whatever the particular reason, it didn’t matter; here they were, with a nice little trap for the last member of the pack they had in chains.

“Seems your little pet has forgotten about you,” The alpha standing next to Derek tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder, smugness practically leaking from her, “Maybe he’s gone to find a pack with a better Alpha, one who doesn’t let his pack get captured so easily. It was pitiful really, barely took any effort at all.” She smirked down at him, revealing a set of pearly whites a little too sharp to be called human, “Oh how the mighty house of Hale has fallen.”

“If you fucking touch him -” Derek’s threat was stopped mid growl by the blonde wrapping a manicured hand around his throat.

“Don’t threaten me, dog. Remember which one of us is in chains.”

“You know, it’ll probably be better for all of us if you let go of him.” Stile’s voice cut through the air in the clearing, causing all 13 heads to swivel rapidly in his direction. Honestly, they were just too easy, scent masking was painstakingly simple, and yet so damn efficient. “I’d really rather my Alpha didn’t smell like bitch, it’s really not attractive on someone with his bicep muscles.”

“Well well, it appears the prodigal human has finally arrived. What took you so long? We almost started the party without you”

“Do you always chain your party guests up? That has to make for some awkward moments when the hors d’oerves come out.”

“Cute,” the blonde smirked at him, “We heard you were funny but I had no idea you were this much of a riot.”

“I know right? I’m freaking adorable, just no one else see it.” He flashes her his trademark too wide smile, he can play up the helpless kid act a little longer.

“It’s always the pretty ones who are the dumbest, isn’t it? You came to a meeting with a pack of Alphas and didn’t even bring a weapon.” She seemed genuinely disappointed by his apparent lack of intelligence. “I thought you’d at least bring one of your fathers little guns, he is the Sheriff after all, or maybe you’d try to steal some of those special bullets those pathetic hunters living in town like to keep around,” she ignored the growl the comment elicited from Alison, “but no, not even a baseball bat.”

“I thought I’d do the polite thing and give you a chance.”

“A chance?” Her laughing echoed off the trees, high and shrill in the still night. “A chance to do what, kill you even more easily?”

She thought he was such easy prey, just a breakable little human. He was going to enjoy proving her wrong. His lips twisted into something far too cruel to ever be called a smile.

“You have something of mine, and I want it back. Now, you have a choice, you can either give it back, and I give you a head start, or I can take it back. I highly recommend you choose the first option, it gives you more of a chance, but frankly I don’t care all that much, either way I get what I want.”

A rumble of amusement travelled around the clearing at his words, still chuckling, the blonde sauntered up to him, the very picture of confidence.

“I think,” she started, “that we’re going to have to politely decline you offer and just go with our original plan of killing you. Although I do like your idea of giving you a head start, it’s so much more enjoyable when you get to chase.”

“Good, I’d hoped you’d choose that option.”

With those words released his control, shuddering in pleasure as felt his power soar. Wings unfurled from his back, the long black feathers glinting in the moon light. His teeth and fingers lengthened to tapered points and his eyes clouded with black, an impenetrable darkness that swallowed any hint of colour that had been there before. In a heartbeat Stiles had become something seen only in the nightmares of children.

With a bone chilling cry, Stiles attacked.

The blonde bitch was the first to die, she paid for her words in blood and pain, just as the others would. The muffled thump of her lifeless body hitting the ground seemed to spur the other alphas into a frenzy as their desire to stay alive overcame their surprise and fear. They attacked as one, each aiming for a different part of him, waiting to rip him to pieces, and with bloodlust singing in his ears, he fought.

He clawed and bit at the wolves, relishing each cry of pain, each drop of blood they spilled until finally they fell, all but one. This last werewolf was smaller than the others, blonde hair matted with blood, his eyes glowing red, Stiles could hear his laboured breathing as he couched into an attack pose. Stiles faced him, knees bent into a crouch that mirrored his, and waited for the wolf to make the first move. With a roar he pounced, aiming for Stiles’ wings with his claws out, teeth extended, fighting with the desperation of a man who knows he’s going to lose.

“Don’t touch my wings.” Stiles snarls, curling his power around the throat of the unfortunate wolf, squeezing just a little too hard, until, with an audible snap, the wolf fell to the ground with the others. “It’s very rude.”

Bodies of the Alphas littered the ground around him, they lay at awkward angles, still limbs bent wrong in places, they were covered in patches of red, and some still bled sluggishly, werewolf healing meant nothing to him.

With one last disdainful look at the bodies on the ground, Stiles pulled back his power just enough so his eyes faded back to brown, and his teeth and claws shank back to human. He kept his wings though, his liked his wings and he hardly ever got a chance to stretch them out. The feathers rustled as they adjusted on instinct, compensating for any movement he made as Stiles turned and faced his friends.

“So can I help you out of the chains or are you going to start screaming if I get to close?” Stiles inquired.Seven pairs of panicked eyes stared back at him; all but Derek seemed too shocked to speak.

“Undo the chains.” He growled at Stiles. Geez, save a guy’s life and he still growls at you, talk about gratitude.

Stiles knelt down to study the chains, examining them for wards or traps. The sticky scent of wolfsbane wafted gently up from them, explaining why all but the humans had dark rings of burnt skin surrounding the metal.

“You could have killed them all in less than a minute.” Stiles hummed absently in agreement with Derek’s comment. “But you chose to fight. Why?”

The iron creaked as his hand twitched on the chains for a second, his eyes flashing black.

“They hurt you,” he hissed and bared his teeth, ignoring the way the others flinched at the animalistic sound, “and for that they paid.”

The chains didn’t appear to be warded in any way, just coated in wolfsbane oil. Working his way around the group, Stiles ripped each of the manacles in half.

“Do you need something specific for the burns?” He asked Derek, the only one who hadn’t taken a step back from him. He ignored the sting of hurt at that, he didn’t blame them really; he could taste how strong their fear of him was in the air. He would probably have done the same thing if he was them. Derek shook his head and a tense silence settled over the group, the tension climbing higher and higher until –

“The fuck, Stiles?!”

Jackson’s outburst seemed to break the tension and spur everyone into action. He watched as the werewolves transformed, crouching into defensive stances, as Alison dived for her discarded bow and Lydia grabbed a nearby stick and held it like a baseball bat.

“You know I prefer chocolate as ‘thanks for saving our lives because you’re awesome friend’ gifts, but hey, buyers choice right?” Well at least none of them had attacked him yet, that was something.

“Explain.” Lydia demanded. He was a little impressed by how steady her voice was, considering how strong the scent of fear was coming off her, “What are you?”

“Can we have this conversation at a time when we aren’t surrounded by bodies and I’m not covered in blood?” Stiles grimaced at his torso; the blood had started to cool and was feeling rather disgusting on his skin. He took Derek’s answering growl as a negative. “Fine, if you must know, I’m a daemon. Well, half daemon actually, Dad’s human.”

“A what?!” It was Scott this time.

“A daemon, you know the foot soldiers of the Devil, except without the Devil part. The Devil’s not actually real. I think. I’m like, 90 percent sure he’s not real, well, 85.” The guy never actually showed up, if he did exist. Not that Stiles would expect the guy to come say hi to every half daemon out there, he probably had more important things to do, like drowning puppies or something.

“Are – Are you evil?” Well that hurt.

“The fuck kind of question is that?! Did I ask you that when you got bitten? Or even those multiple times you tried to kill me? Fuck you Scott, nice to know all those years of friendship didn’t go to waste.”

“I -”

“No, you know what, screw you all, I just saved all your asses and this is what I get? When you guys stop being dicks, come and find me.” With that, Stiles turned and pushed off the ground, coaxing the wind to support his wings until he got high enough above the ground.

 

*_*_*

“He flies too?!”

“What did you think the wings were for, idiot?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey :) so sorry this took so long to do, but hey, it's up now. 
> 
> hopefully the next one will be longer... and better. 
> 
> as usual, it is unbetaed and comments are love, so, enjoy :)

Stile’s spent the next couple of hours alternating between flying above the trees and perching in the trees like some overgrown bird filled with teen angst, completely warranted teen angst, he might add, but teen angst nonetheless. He circled back around near the clearing a couple times, making sure to stay far enough away that not even Derek could smell or hear him, but that he could still watch over them, making sure no alphas had been left behind and were waiting in the trees for them. They might not care about him anymore, but that didn't mean he’d stopped caring for them, it didn't work that way. He watched as they got rid of the bodies before he eventually had to go home, his dad would be back from work soon, and he had a curfew. And yes, he realized how ridiculous that sounded.  


He flew back to town, wrapping the darkness around himself to hide him from anyone who might have been looking. He probably should have just hidden his wings and walked, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. This was who he was, who he had always been, sure he might not have shown them the wings, but that didn't change who he was, and if Scott couldn’t see that then… Stiles let the thought go; he didn't have the energy to finish that sentence. He didn't want to think about what losing his best friend completely would feel like, it was bad enough dealing with only having half of Scott’s attention due to Alison.  


Stiles climbed through his window (there’s a reason it’s so easy for werewolves to sneak in through), employing some complicated gymnastics moves to fit his wings through the frame, eventually landing with a thump on the carpet. He sighed and made his way to the bathroom, his dad would freak out if he saw the blood; that was one conversation he really didn't want to have. He paused as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Blood coated his torso in thick, twisting lines, curling up and down his sides, spiraling onto his arms in irregular patterns from the claws of the alphas, there were smudges along his cheeks and it had matted his hair into short spikes. He looked wild and dangerous, and… powerful, his daemon supplied, its voice an ageless hiss in his mind. I look like I need a shower, Stiles corrected it, grimacing at the tackiness of the dried blood. He pulled off the shredded remains of the rest of his clothes (claws are not very forgiving when it comes to cotton) and stepped into the heat of the shower. He stood under the hot water, enjoying the feel of it rolling off his wings, washing away the leaves and blood that had found their way into the feathers, until the water no longer ran pink when it ran down the plug hole

*_*_*

“Hey Stiles what did-” the Sheriff turned to look at his son as he came down the stairs, “Oh, so it’s a wings out kind of night tonight?”  


Glumly, Stiles nodded and threw himself into one of the kitchens chairs with a facial expression some might call pouting. Not him though, no, he called it expressing his frustration through the use of his lips, it sounded manlier.  


“Want to talk about it?”  


“Not particularly.”  


“Stiles -”  


“Scott found out. And Isaac, and Erica, and Boyd, and – you know what, let’s just say the majority of my friend base now knows I'm… this” He gestured feebly at his wings  


“Don’t refer to yourself as ‘this’. Just wings or-” He cut off at Stiles guilty wince. “How bad was it?”  


“Pretty bad. They saw the whole teeth, eyes and claws package deal.” He looked down at his hands which were picking at a hole in the tablecloth, “Scott asked me if I was evil.”  


“Oh kiddo, I’m sorry.” Stiles turned into his father’s hug, his wings curling around the both of them, “You know what Scott's like, he probably didn’t mean it like that.”  


“What other way can you mean it? It’s not like the term evil is particularly ambiguous.”  


“Okay, so he didn't react well, give him some time. He’ll come around.”  


“I’ve been friends with the guy since kindergarten; you think that would be enough time.”  


“And he’s known about this side of you about two hours, give him some credit, you know how he handles things.”  


“It’s just-” Stiles started, “It’s just, when he was bitten I was there for him, like, completely. I was the one that did all the research into it, I taught him how to control it, I was there for the whole Alison mess, I acted as their freaking text messaging system, and you really don’t want to know half the lovey dovey crap they spout on a constant basis. But when it’s my turn? He turns around and accuses me of being evil.”  


“I know it’s not fair, but give him some time to adjust.”  


“Whatever, I just don’t have the energy for this conversation.” Stiles sighed and thumped his head on the table, his wings sagging against the back of the chair.  


“So am I going to have to threaten anyone with my gun to keep them quiet?” John asked after a pause. “I don’t think we can pass this off as a Halloween costume like we did with Mrs. Gervaris when you were five.”  


“Nah, they won’t tell anyone. Decide to hunt me down and kill me maybe, but they won’t tell anyone, the whole I know about them all being werewolves kinda makes sure of that. And by the way, that incident was so not my fault, her dog totally stole my pop tart; pop tarts are sacred.”  


“It’s not just the werewolf thing you know. They are still your friends.”  


“Yeah you would think so, wouldn’t you.”  


“Give them time Stiles, they’ll come around. If not, well you deserve better.”  


“There’s a pop tart stealing dog out there who would disagree with you on that count. It was a damn good pop tart too, such a shame I didn't get to finish it.”  


"You’re not getting pop tarts for dinner, Stiles.”  


“Aww, come on -”  


“No. If I can’t have curly fries you can’t have pop tarts for dinner.”  


“You make a harsh deal, old man”  


“Old man?”  


“Uh, young man? Young handsome man? With great hair?”  


“Good save.” John chuckled as he turned back to the stove. 

*_*_*

To say the next day at school was awkward would be an understatement. The pack avoided him completely, whether it was in class, at lunch, or just walking down the halls. Boyd was probably the least obvious about it, he just chose to steadfastly ignore Stiles, whereas Erica had taken to growling at him when she saw him (although to be fair, she had done this semi-regularly before the incident) and he was 85 percent sure Alison had a crossbow in her backpack. Not that it would do any good, but hey, can’t fault a girl for trying. Scott only looked at him an intensely confused expression, like he was trying to figure out why he couldn’t see Stile’s wings anymore. Jackson and Lydia ignored him too, but this wasn’t really anything new.  


Stiles ignored them all right back. He was not going to break first damnit, he was the one who was owed and apology, he’s totally saved their asses last night and if they wanted to be dicks then that was their problem, no matter how depressing it became when he had no one to talk for most of the day.  


This obvious distrust the pack was emanating was why Stiles had been so surprised when Isaac had sat down next to him in Chemistry.  


“So where do your wings go when they’re not like, out where everyone can see them?”  


Stiles stared at him for a full minute before breaking out in a grin; Isaac was now officially on the top of his Which Werewolf I Like the Most List (it had been unofficial for a while, depending how much Scott had annoyed him during the day or how many times Derek took his shirt off that day).  


“They’re still technically there, but kind of not at the same time? I could explain it fully to you but it would involve me having to teach you some interdimensional physics, and really no one should have to learn that shit if they don’t have to.” Stiles only just understood it himself from when his mother had tried to teach him when he was ten.  


The rest of the lesson had gone pretty smoothly after that, Stiles not mentioning the others in the pack and Isaac not mentioning anything demon related. Neither of them mentioned the growling sounds that were getting louder and louder from the corner Erica was sitting in.  


Lacrosse practice, fortunately had been cancelled, so Stiles didn't have to deal with watching three of his teammates try and decide whether they would tackle him or just never look in his direction  


The truly horrible day only got worse when he got home to find Derek standing in his room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey :)
> 
> hope you're enjoying the story so far.
> 
> This chapter kind of came at me while i was trying ot study for my mid sem (im such a good student :/), i was intending to have them talking, but apparently the fictional sexual tension overcame them :P
> 
> The next chapter may take a while, RL is pretty busy right now and i should probably concentrate on that for a bit, but i will get it done as soon as i can.
> 
> As usual, unbetaed, and comments are love :)

“We need to talk.” 

Huh, he was expecting less words and more shoving into walls, possibly with some holy water action and Latin exorcism words thrown in. Not that it would have worked by the way, its just water that some priest bad touched and a dead language Hollywood likes to use to make it seem like they actually research something (just because they're said by some guy in The Exorcist doesn’t make them magical).

“Are you actually going to talk or am I going to have to interpret your growls and death threats like some new form of Morse code? Because I can do that if you want, but i cant guarantee any accuracy in my translation, I haven’t figured out what’s Derek for ‘thank you for saving my life Stiles, and I'm sorry my pack is made up of horrible people with the exception of Isaac because he’s an adorable puppy who deserves hugs and other nice things because he’s not a dick like the rest of them.’”

Of course this was responded to with a growl, surprise, surprise.

“Oh now, that one I know, that one means ‘shut up Stiles’”

“Stiles,” Derek’s tone was clipped with anger, or actually, it might have been exasperation, it's a little hard to tell with Derek, for all Stiles knew, it could have been some bastard child of both, “are you going to let me actually talk?”

“Talk away, oh superior one.” Stiles waved a hand at Derek, smirking as at the glare it earned him.

Stiles looked up at Derek expectantly when he stayed silent, which was becoming awkward fast.

“You know you’re actually going to have to say something if you want us to have a conversation. Mind reading isn’t one of my many talents. Well mostly.” It wasn't mind reading specifically, it was more like impressions from the person in general, nothing conclusive or in depth, but Derek didn’t need to know that. Unless he asked of course, Stiles was an open book at the moment. With wings. He was an open book with wings. How would that even work? and why would you even put wings on books, its not like they would need to go anywhere, although that would make it easier to get them off the shelf if they simply came to you. 

“So, you’re a daemon.” 

Stile's blinked as he was pulled out of his weird winged book thought tangent, “Half daemon, but yes.”

“What does that… mean?” Derek seemed awkward, as if he wasn’t sure about the social protocol was for questioning someone about their species. Yeah, Emily Post hadn’t quite caught up to their situation yet. 

“Well I thought the phrase half daemon was self explanatory, but hey if you want diagrams and step by step instructions on how babies are created I can probably supply that.” 

“Stiles.” Oh more growling, that was always fun, at least he hadn’t been shoved into a wall yet (although to be honest, he secretly enjoyed that). 

“What?” 

“Stop it. I’m actually trying over here. The attitude isn’t helping.” 

Okay, so maybe he was being unnecessarily sarcastic with him, but give him a break, he’d just spent the whole day being systematically ignored and growled at, that warranted at least a little teenage attitude, right? 

“Fine. What do you want to know.” Maturity sucks; being petty is so much more enjoyable.

“Everything.” Well that was specific. 

“Everything? That’s a lot of history to cover Derek, I don’t really think I have the time, and I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to tell you all of it. Trade secrets and all that.”

“Stiles.” 

“Monosyllabic answers are really your thing today, aren’t they?”

“Stiles.” 

“Fine, fine, ask your questions, I’ll try and answer them best I can.”

“You’re strong.”

“Well thank you, but that’s not a question.” He shut up at the glare Derek threw him.

“You’re strong. You killed all those alphas on your own, like it was nothing, and you did it without getting hurt once. You could have easily killed me this whole time and taken the pack, but instead you chose not to. You saved us instead." "Still not a question, Derek." "Why?”

"Well a question generally needs to have some kind of premise as to which -"

"No, why didnt you kill me."

Stiles sighed and moved to his computer chair. See, this is why immaturity is fun, you never have to answer questions like this seriously when you're being an immature idiot, you can just make a dog joke and get growled at. 

“Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should. In theory, I could kill everyone in this town, but that doesn’t mean I should or even want to. Like I said, I’m not evil, I have feelings, I care about people, i have a conscience, i'm a real boy Jiminy." Derek just looked confused as to why he was calling him Jiminy, and it really wasnt worth explainign the plot of Pinnochio just so he could get the reference, so Stile's moved on. "Just because a part of me is associated with the devil and killing and all that jazz doesn’t mean I’m actually like that. Mum wasn’t like that either, well at least as far as I knew. She didn’t really speak much of her life before she met my dad, and I didn’t ask.” 

To him, she had just been Mum, the person who hugged him when he was sad, made him cookies on weekends and told him bedtime stories. Granted she’d also done some unhuman-like parenting by teaching him how to fly and how to use his powers but it wasn’t like she’d taught him by making him kills kittens or something. 

“And as to why I haven’t killed you, well why would I? Sorry to burst your little paranoia bubble you have going on there, but not everyone out there wants to hurt you. I really have no wish to be in charge of that pack, they would drive me to the brink of insanity in a week. Besides, its not like you’re doing a bad job or anything, you've gotten a lot better since training has stopped including you breaking their bones on purpose. I definitely wouldn't be able to do any better than you, you actually know all the werewolf crap.” 

“So in other words, I’m the Alpha because you let me be?” What? That was so not he'd said!

“Wow, way to twist my words there, dude. Are all Alpha’s this pessimistic or is that just you?”

Derek just stared at him stonily, as if that was actually a reasonable response. Wow, he knew the guy had self esteem issue, but this was ridiculous. 

“You aren’t Alpha because I ‘let you’,” yes, the quotey marks Stiles made with his fingers were completely justified, “you are Alpha because the pack respects you, because you fight for them, you teach them and you genuinely care what happens to them.” Stiles spun away from him on his chair. “Because I let you. Ridiculous werewolf," he scoffed, hiding his smile as he felt surprise and happiness colour Derek’s aura at his words (he didn’t know if aura was the right word for it, it sounded a little new agey to him, but there really wasn’t any other word he could think of that sounded better), not that he showed any physical signs of it of course, god forbid the guy ever smile.

“You know the others are going to want to ask you questions at the next pack meeting, right?”

“Next- you mean you actually want me there?”

“Of course I want you there, you’re pack.” Derek threw him a look like he was being purposely stupid, which was just a little unfair in Stile’s opinion, not like anyone had thought it relevant to inform him of this, he'd always assumed he was, but it was nice to hear Derek actually say it.

“Any other questions you want to ask? Have I ever destroyed a village? Do I hunt children for fun? The answer to both of those is no, by the way, its so hard to find villages nowadays, and hunting children just sounds way too horrifying to keep mentioning.” 

“Can I see you wings?”

Well that was a little unexpected, he’d expected more of an interrogation, maybe he was just saving it for when the rest of the pack were there to back him up in case he pissed Stiles off, safety in numbers and all that.

“Uh, sure if you want.” He stood up and let his wings materialize into view, relishing the stretch as he extended them as far as he could in the confines of his room. They were a lot bigger than they looked when they were curled against his back, each one was probably around six feet long if he extended them fully. He glanced at Derek to judge his reaction, see if he would have to hide them again because they were freaking him out or something, and was surprised to see Derek’s eyes tracking their soft movements and the way his hands twitched before he curled them into fists as if he wanted to run his fingers through the feathers and stopping himself. That was interesting. He could – no that was a bad idea, a very bad idea. Somebody should probably tell his mouth that though, before it started saying things he'd regret. 

“You- ” Oh god, this was going end badly, why was he still talking? “You can touch them if you want.”

Derek looked torn, it was clear he really wanted to, but not sure if he actually should, he probably thought it was some kind of trap. 

“Are you sure? You practically tore that other alpha apart for almost touching them.” Yep, he totally thought it was a trap. 

“Well don’t lunge at them with claws, and I think we’ll be fine.” Derek shot him an unimpressed glare. Stiles hadn't known glares could express so much before Derek came into his life. “I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.”

Derek hesitated for a minute before reaching out and running his fingers over one of the outer feathers, feeling the way the silky edge glided over his skin. Stiles suppressed a shiver as the sensation skittered through his wings and to his groin. I am not going to get hard, i am not going to get hard, he told his dick, maybe this time it would actually listen to him and not the teenage hormones it followed most of the time and save him some extreme embarrassment. 

It seemed to work, that is until Derek moved his hand further inwards and ran both his hands over them, letting the feathers slip through his fingers. Stiles couldn’t hide the shiver that time, he barely managed to swallow the moan that the sensation elicited. Fuck he was hard, so god damn hard. Derek had barely touched his wings and already he was practically leaking. At least he wasn't the only one, he could hear Derek’s breathing getting shorter and heavier as the thick scent of arousal filled the heated air between them, curling and twisting into a fog that coated them both with each others scent. He could smell Derek’s erection behind him, hear the quickening thump thump of his heart beat, feel the heat that emanated from him grow stronger with each stroke of his hand through Stile’s wings. He lost track of time as his entire world focused on Derek's fingers as they carded through his wings, smoothing feathers and running his nails over the joints, drawing strangled groans and moans from Stiles at each new sensation. He was dangerously close to coming just from this, he would be embarrassed at his hair trigger if h had enough brain function left.

Stiles let out a deep groan as he felt his knees buckle when Derek nuzzled his face into the feathers, inhaling Stile's scent deeply, dragging his cheek over dark feathers, his stubble catching lightly, making Stiles pant at the slight pulling feeling. At this rate Stiles was going to come untouched in his pants, and at this point he was more than okay with that, dignity be damned, he was already as hard as diamonds and his control was slipping fast. He could feel his fingers lengthen into claws that gouged holes into the wooden desk he was holding on to in a desperate attempt not to collapse to the floor, he knew that if he bothered to look in the mirror, his eyes would be swallowed by black. His control snapped completely when Derek closed his (thankfully human) teeth around the thin skin where his wings erupted out of his back, with a shout Stiles came, groaning as the orgasmic shudders that wracked him caused Derek’s teeth to scrape further against the nerves. It was a vicious cycle and if Stiles had his way, it would never stop. 

He collapsed back against Derek chest, knees weak from the mind blowing orgasm, fuck he knew his wings were sensitive, but he hadn’t expected it to feel like that. He marshaled his jellied limbs into action so he could turn against Derek’s chest and pull Derek’s head down to his so their lips could reach each other. Derek growled (he should not find that as hot as he did) and kissed stiles harder, too sharp teeth nipped at his lips and he pushed his tongue into Stiles mouth, taking everything for himself. Stiles surged into the kiss wrapping his wings around them both so they were enveloped in a soft cloud of black. He kissed back as good as he got, grinding his thigh into Derek’s erection, drinking up every growl and moan he gave like a man dying of thirst. 

Without warning, Derek tensed and pulled away. Stiles stumbled and almost fell in confusion at the loss, saved only by his wings flapping in the air. Before he could say anything, Derek was gone, jumping out the window and racing off down the street, despite the fact it was broad daylight.  
Stiles stood alone in his room trying to wrap his sluggish brain around what had just happened before giving up and collapsing on his bed. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head from the fog of arousal that still filled the air. What the hell had that been?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey :) once again instead of studying i fic'd. its becoming a bad habit :/
> 
> just a note for this chapter, for anyone wondering who john dee is, he's the guy who invented the enochian language supernatural like to use. 
> 
> Unbetaed as usual, and enjoy

Stile still hadn’t figured it out when his dad came home two hours later. By this time he had migrated to the kitchen in an ill-fated attempt to cook dinner. He was staring morosely at a shopping board of half cut onions holding a warped knife when his dad walked through the door.

“Do I want to know what happened to the knife?”

“That depends, will you believe me when I blame mysteriously rock hard onions and not the fact that I slipped and hit my finger on the blade again?”

“I will if you go get a new one this time.”

Stiles sighed, “Fine, they already think I'm some kind of serial killer who hoards knives anyway after that time I bought, like, ten of them. At least it’s only one this time.”

The Sherriff peered suspiciously over his shoulder at the mess of vegetables he had spread around the kitchen. “You want me to take over?”

“Nah, I got it,” Stiles waved him off, “it’s just a stir fry, I can handle it. Go watch TV or something. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

With one last narrow eyed glare at the pile of vegetables, John walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer, leaning against the only clear section of counter as he opened it.

“So how was school?”

“Well none of them threw holy water at me so that’s always a plus.”

“Stiles.”

“What is it with people saying my name in that tone today?!” Stiles threw his hands in the air (thankfully not holding new knife at the time), holding out exactly three seconds before giving into the cop glare his dad was giving him. Seriously, his dads cop face could rival Derek’s glares in an Intimidating Look contest. Not that they actually had those, because that would be weird. And vaguely frightening in a “why the hell would people do that” kind of way, like those Klingon versions of Shakespeare that had gone around a couple years ago.

“Gah fine, I’ll spill; you can put the cop face away. It sucked. None of them except Isaac would even sit near me.”

“Isaac Lahey? Knew that kid had a good head on his shoulders.”

“You thought he killed his father.”

“I thought he MAY have, there’s a difference. Plus, all the evidence pointed to - why am I justifying myself to you? That was police business, and not any of yours.”

"It's cute how you still believe that." Stiles snorted.

 

*_*_*

 

Despite the fact he was ten minutes late, Stiles wasn’t the last to arrive at Derek’s apartment for the pack meeting, which was a little annoying considering he’d been late on purpose for that exact reason. He thought about standing outside and just waiting for the last one to turn up but that thought didn't last long, the only one who wasn’t currently inside was Erica and he had a feeling he didn’t want to be alone with Erica in a hallway with potential witnesses (aka, Derek’s neighbors).

Plus standing outside the door of someone who was clearly home while holding a Tupperware container of cupcakes would look really shifty to anyone who saw him (he’d made the cupcakes the night before, he was working on the assumption that food makes any situation just that little less awkward, plus if nothing else, it would help win over Scott and his bottomless pit of a stomach). Well either way this was going to be awkward and uncomfortable, so he might as well get it over and done with, and with that heartwarming thought, he opened the door.

And was greeted with complete silence. Everyone in the room had turned to look at the doorway when he’d opened it and had seemed to of frozen in that position, the expressions on their faces ranging from angry (that one was Derek, although to be fair, he probably wasn’t angry at all, majority of his expressions looked angry) to deeply suspicious (Alison that time, she also had her hand in her bag ready to pull out her crossbow if he so much as sneezed, but she was the daughter of a hunter after all, so he let that go).

“You’re late.” Derek’s words broke the tension around the group. He watched a wry amusement how they all relaxed, now that it was clear he wasn’t actually here to kill everyone (although why he would bring cupcakes to that he didn’t know).

“I know, I’m sorry. But I brought cupcakes to make up for it?”

Isaac and Scott perked up at that.

“Chocolate?” Isaac nosed twitched as the smell of the cupcakes wafted towards him.

“Awesome!!” Scott’s eyes locked onto the container like a heat seeking missile as Stiles put it on the table. Scott had slowly started speaking to again him during the week, their friendship was still on incredibly rocky ground but Stiles knew from experience, food was always a sure way to get on Scott’s good side.

“Isaac gets first pick.” He slapped away Scott’s hand as he reached for a cupcake.

“Aww, why?”

“Put the puppy eyes away dude, they’re not going to work. Isaac gets first pick because he’s way too skinny.” And because he’d been the first to talk to Stiles on that first day, but he wasn’t going to bring that up.

Isaac grinned at him before picking the second biggest one (the biggest one was always reserved for Derek) and peeling the paper off it. The group settled into a comfortable silence as they each chose their own carefully iced cupcake and started eating the chocolate deliciousness.

Unfortunately, the moment was short lived as Erica stormed into the apartment a minute later.

“What is he doing here?” she growled, waving her hand in Stiles general direction. Stiles was pretty sure this much growling can’t be healthy for her, she was going to strain a vocal cord or something at the rate she was going.

“This is a pack meeting. He’s pack. Where else would he be?” Derek raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t know, terrorizing children or something, isn’t that what things like him do? And what do you mean he’s pack, since when?!”

Well this was going exactly like he’d pictured. Sort of. He’d actually pictured a mixture of the exorcism scene in the Exorcist and one of the many wolf attack scenes from The Grey (and yes, in this scenario he was Liam Neeson, hey, it’s his imagination, he can be Liam Neeson if he wants to be. Or Batman. More often than not he was Batman).

“First of all, hi Erica, how have you been? Life still treating you all fine and dandy? Second of all, I have a name, it’s Stiles. Actually, no it’s not, but that’s the one I use. And third of all, screw you; see if I give you cupcakes now.”

“I don’t want your stupid cupcakes.” She was totally lying, everyone wanted his cupcakes, his cupcakes were awesome. Well that and he heard her heartbeat uptick, classic tell.

“Enough, Erica.” Derek growled at her. His growls were so much better than hers, way more realistic, but that was probably one of the perks of being the Alpha, you could hardly intimidate others if your growling wasn’t up to standard.

“No, he has no right to be here, and I want him gone!!”

“No right to be here?” Stiles was so sick of this attitude Erica had about him, all week he’d put up with it, he’d had enough. “I have just as much right to be here as you do, if not more. I’ve done just as much for this pack as you have, and I’ve been less of a bitch about it too.”

“A bitch?!” She whirled around to face Derek, “Are you going to let him sit there and insult me like that?”

Derek just shrugged, and took a bite of his cupcake, not a single fuck was given there it seemed.

“To be fair, you insulted me first. Terrorizing children, seriously? I bet you have holy water with you right now don’t you? Are you going to start shouting Christo at me too, see if I flinch?” He watched in amusement as Erica flushed, he was totally right. “You know Erica; technically you’re just as much a “monster” as I am. Werewolves aren’t exactly known to be friendly in folk lore.”

“Well at least werewolves aren’t synonymous with the Devil.” She shot back. She really couldn’t let go of the whole Devil thing, could she?

“No they’re synonymous with fleas instead. Oh and eating the hearts of their victims, that shows up quite often too.” Seriously, it showed up bloody freaking everywhere. Where did that even come from? Was it a popular thing back in the glory days? He’d have to ask Derek. You know, when Derek started to speaking to him again, instead of avoiding him like the plague since that afternoon that he will not think about.

“Well at least my mother wasn’t the Devil’s bitch.” Erica sneered at him.

In a blink of an eye, Stiles had vaulted over the table at her, eyes swallowed in black, claws out, teeth sharpened to points, his back itched as his wings struggled against their bonds. The wall shook as Erica was slammed into it, Stiles’ hand wrapped around her throat, just barely shy of actually cutting off her breathing. How fucking dare she insult his mother like that, nobody disrespected his mother and got away with it unscathed. Least of all this insignificant teenager, she would learn respect or he would teach it to her. The daemon screamed at him to rip her throat out, stand over her and watch as she bled out on the floor, she would be a lesson to any others who thought to follow her example.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk about my mother like that.” His voice became a hiss as his daemon’s voice mingled with his, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Erica’s eyes were wide as she clawed at the hand around her throat with human fingernails, trying desperately to wolf out, get any advantage she had. Ruthlessly he suppressed it, let her stay human, let her stay afraid, she –

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice cut through the black haze that swallowed his thoughts, his command was calm and measured, as if he had no doubt that Stiles would obey, “Let her go.”

Stiles shoulder twitched as his daemon fought the command. He could disobey, he didn’t have to follow this Alpha, he could –

“Stiles, now.”

He forced his hand to loosen and pull away, pushing away his anger, he reined back his power, blinking his eyes back to brown. He hissed one last challenge at Erica before letting the rest of him fade back to human. Shame and embarrassment filled the place anger had been, fuck, he had really messed up. He never lost control like that, never, he was better than that. He had twelve years of obscurity to prove it, so of course it had to happen in front of the very people he was trying to convince that he wasn’t going to randomly slip and kill them all.

 _Yeah, great job there Stiles,_ he berated himself, _I bet they feel all kinds of safe now._

He turned to face the others, ready to face the accusations and stake burning he was pretty sure he was going to be subjected to after that little display.

Their expressions weren’t quite the naked hate and fear he was expecting, however; actually most of them weren’t even looking at him, they were glaring at Erica. Derek was only the one looking at him, his expression seemed… thoughtful, but Stiles couldn’t for the life of him figure out what about.

“You knocked over the cupcakes.” Isaac complained, he was pouting at the overturned container and smears of icing that covered the table.

“Sorry, buddy. I’ll make you some more later.” He promised, his lips twitched into a smile as Isaac face lit up.

Stiles moved back to his chair, picking it up off the floor before sitting himself back into it. Erica shot him a glare as she sat in the last empty chair at the table, but after spending time with Derek, if was like water off a duck’s back. She wisely stayed silent, sensing that the rest of the table was not on her side in this.

“So holy water and Latin don’t do anything, huh?” Lydia asked.

He smiled at her, “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“So what is your kryptonite then?”

He looked at her suspiciously, giving away information like that wasn’t safe, his mother had drilled that into him, daemon’s secrets should stay secrets. But he trusted these people; surely they wouldn’t take advantage of this knowledge, mostly they just seemed genuinely curious.

Still, Stiles hesitated before answering, “Certain phrases in a certain language may have… adverse effects on me, or so I’ve been told anyway. I’ve never been all that interested in testing that theory. And specific ingredients combined in a certain way in the right circumstances might possibly cause other effects that are similar, but not identical, to ways to the previously mentioned words have. Maybe.”

“Could you be any more vague there Stiles?” Jackson deadpanned at him.

“A certain language.” Lydia mused, “It must be a dead language, but it’s not Latin, maybe that was too common in the old civilizations, it must be something more obscure. Oh, I got it, Enochian?”

“The language of the angels?” Alison’s brow furrowed.

Stile’s chuckled, “Ah, that John Dee, completely bat shit insane but damn was a genius.”

“I looked you up in the bestiary,” Alison started, hesitant as if she was worried about offending him, “it didn’t have much to say about daemons, and it didn’t even mention half daemons.”

“Yeah I looked up daemons in it too, once Lydia had translated it.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, “I wasn’t really surprised it didn’t have much in it, daemons are pretty protective of their secrets. And not to sound like I’m bragging or anything, but not many hunters that fought a daemon would have survived long enough to try out different techniques on them.” The small amount of information they did have was most likely given to the hunter as a truce of sorts.

“Why wasn’t there even a mention of half daemons though?”

“Because I’m an abomination.” Stiles said easily. A chorus protest went around the table.

“Dude, what even?” Scott frowned at him

“That’s a horrible thing to say about yourself.” Isaac chimed in.

“Well it’s true; half daemons are incredibly rare because the only way we can happen is with a female daemon and a human male. It’s something about the human females not accepting the foreign sperm or something, I didn’t really want details after I heard the phrase ‘foreign sperm’”

“So why is that so rare? Surely daemons cavort with humans all the time.”

“Ew, Lydia, cavort? Really?”

“You just used the words foreign sperm and you’re judging me for cavort?” She had a point.

“Well I don’t really know the sexual habits of daemons, because gross, that’s my mum we’re talking about, but for the baby to be born, the mother has to stay in a human form for the whole pregnancy. And it goes against their nature to knowingly produce kids that are going to be weaker and slower than if they were full daemons.”

“I don’t get how that makes you an ‘abomination’” Lydia’s lips twisted in distaste at the word.

“Daemons are snobs, they see mixing their genes with humans as distasteful, and humans don’t exactly give me a warm welcome either.” He glared at Erica, who just glared back at him (she wasn’t technically human, but she was close enough).

“So how much of a daemon are you?” Scott flushed as he realized how his question sounded.

 “I think what Scott means, is how much of their powers did you get?” Alison smiled at Scott’s grateful look, “You know besides the obvious things, like your wings and your strength.”

“Oh well I also have…” he paused, trying to find the words to describe his powers, “it’s not… magic as such, I mean not how you would probably think of it with the whole potions and spell and witches Hollywood version, its more… force of will? I can’t really think of anyway other way to describe it. If I want something bad enough I can channel that and kind of make it happen. It mostly manifests as telekinesis, but I can do other things, with limitations of course.”

“Wow, so you’re like an X-men.” Scott’s stared at him in wide eyed wonder, “That is so cool!!”

“Magneto has nothing on me.” Stile shared a grin with Scott, X-men references, good for every occasion. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah so not my best work, but hey, what are you gunna do. 
> 
> Unbeated as usual, comments are love and enjoy.

“So what else can you do?” Scott asked.

“I’d rather hear more about these weaknesses he has.” Erica mumbled. Although in a room full of werewolves (and a daemon) mumbling is just as good as shouting.

“Erica.” Derek growled at her.

“We have a right to know more than that vague little speech he gave about Enochian! He knows every strength and weakness we have, every kind of wolfsbane, what it does, where to get it and how to use it. And he knows because we told him. So I say that we deserve to know more than what obscure language _might_ hurt him. What about phrases, or spells or magic potions for fucks sake. We deserve to know how to defend ourselves when he turns on us!”

“He doesn’t owe us –“ Derek started.

“He almost killed me twenty minutes ago!” Erica’s voice had risen to a screech by this point. “He would have killed me if you hadn’t stopped him. He can’t control himself and one day he’s going to turn on all of us, kill us like he did those Alphas. He fucking _toyed_ with them Derek, he said so himself. He enjoyed watching them suffer and bleed out around him. If that doesn’t scream evil monster, then I don’t know what does!!”

“Your parents are religious, aren’t they?” Stile’s asked softly. Erica was afraid. She was terrified of him and what he represented. He could see it choking her aura, thick yellow creeping in, taking over all the other colours. Erica stormed out of the apartment, the door shaking with force as she slammed it behind her. The others were left behind in a shocked silence, no body daring to move.

Finally, Stiles stood up and walked out the door himself. He followed Erica’s scent to a park nearby. She was sitting on one of the swings, swaying softly in the dark. Cautiously he approached her, sitting on the other swing.

“Come to finally kill me?” Erica’s taunt fell short. Her fight was gone, sapped out of her after she left the apartment.

“You got me; lacrosse just isn’t enough of a challenge anymore.” Stiles joked lightly.

“Why are you here Stiles?”

“I came to see if you were alright.”

“Why do you even care?” She demanded.

“I’m still the same person I was two weeks ago, Erica. I care if you’re okay; I care about all of the pack, even Jackson, if to a slightly lesser degree.”

“Yeah he’s kind of a douche.” She agreed softly.

Stiles chuckled in agreement.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “For stopping you from turning, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m sorry what I said about your mother.”

“That’s okay, I know you didn't mean it.”

“I remember her you know,” Erica turned to look at him, “from when I was a kid. She used to bring cookies into the hospital for all the kids. It was the only good thing about having to go there so often.”

“Yeah I remember, the house would smell like melted chocolate for hours and she would never let me eat any of them.” Stiles smiled at the memory.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, each one lost in their own memories.

“Can I hug you now?” Erica asked, “I feel like we should be hugging.”

Stiles stood up and held out his arms, smiling as Erica wrapped herself around him.

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.” She said, her words muffled from the way her mouth was pressed against his shoulder, before pulling away from him.

“Meh, I’m used to it.” Stiles threw her a grin, dodging the punch she aimed his way, “Come on, we should get back to the meeting, it’s probably going to shambles without us.”

“Shambles? When did this become the 1950’s?”

“Shut up, it’s a perfectly legitimate word.” Sties insisted.

“Yeah, for housewives in the 50’s”

 

*_*_*

 

The rest of the meeting went by pretty much like it does every fortnight. It was refreshingly normal after all the drama. Well as normal as his life is, anyway.

Eventually, everyone filed out, leaving only Derek and Stiles in the apartment. Derek was refusing to look at Stiles now that they weren’t surrounded by the rest of the pack. Clearly Stiles was going to have to make the first move again.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “So… We should probably talk about the other night, right?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Derek growled, still refusing to look at him.

“You literally ran away from me after we practically had sex, Derek, I think that qualifies as ‘something to talk about’.”

“It was a mistake, it won’t happen again.” Well that kind of hurt.

“Why not?” Stiles demanded, still talking to Derek’s back, seriously this was getting childish. “Is it the daemon thing? The fact that I’m part of your pack? The fact that I can quote Star Wars word for word? What? I deserve an answer, Derek.”

“You’re seventeen years old, Stiles. What we did was illegal. It won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, because you care so much about breaking the law.” Stiles scoffed.

“I care about this one.”  He growled back.

“I call bullshit, Derek.” Stiles crossed his arms, trying to hold back the agitation. “I can tell when you lie, you know. And right now, if you were Pinocchio, your nose would be about a foot long. I refuse to be the talking insect in this story, not again.”

Derek just looked confused at the reference. Seriously? Everyone knows Pinocchio references, its Disney for Christ’s sake.

“Give the real reason Derek.”

“You’re seventeen!!” Derek yelled at him, “You should be out there with people your own age, doing things people your age do!! You deserve better than to be stuck with some emotionally damaged werewolf out of some fucked up obligation you feel you have.”

“Obligation!!” Stiles anger bubbled dangerously high at the word, “You think that night was because I felt like I had an OBLIGATION?! What kind of fucked up theory is that?! You think I would trust someone like that just because I felt like I owed them something? Did you ever think that maybe I actually _like_ you? That maybe I _wanted_ it to happen, you stupid, bloody –“

His words were cut off by Derek’s mouth kissing him as his back slammed into the nearest wall. They attacked each other’s mouth, biting and sucking at each other as Stiles legs came off the ground to wrap around Derek’s waist. He groaned as Derek took that as an invitation to move his hands down to squeeze his ass. His wings flared out before curling around them both (when the hell had they come out?), surrounding them in a glossy black world.

Stiles let out a strangled groan, hitting his head against the wall as Derek simultaneously scraped claws down the skin between his wings and bit down on Stiles neck, hard enough to leave a bruise if he was human.

“Please tell me you actually have a bed, and not some nest of animal carcasses that we can continue this on.” Stiles panted. Although, at this point he would take the animal carcasses. Maybe. Well probably the floor next to them.

Derek growled and bit down harder on his neck at the comment before pulling away and walking towards his room with Stiles still wrapped around his waist.

Stiles was unceremoniously dumped on the bed (so not a pile of animal carcasses, that was a plus), but he didn't have any time to complain before Derek was on top of him, pressing him further into the mattress, growling as Stiles arched into the contact. Derek’s scent surrounded him, ingrained into the pillows, the bed and into the man above him. The clean forest smell of dirt and crushed leaves filled his lungs, made his head dizzy.

He ripped off Derek’s shirt, desperate to get at the hot skin underneath. He laughed as his shirt and pants received the same treatment. His nails raked against Derek’s back, trying to pull him closer, to feel more of the naked skin against his. They both moaned as their erections pressed against each other. Hooking a leg around the back of Derek’s Stiles repeated the motion, pushing his hips into Derek’s harder and more desperation as he felt his orgasm come closer.

Derek wasn’t much better than him, panting hot breaths against Stiles neck, teeth barely scraping the skin, as If he was holding back from biting. Fuck, Stiles wanted him to bite; he wanted to feel Derek sinking his teeth into his neck, the sharp sting as they broke past his skin.  

“Do it.” Stiles panted, triumph soaring through him as he felt Derek’s movement stutter at his words, “Bite me, do it, I want you to, it won’t turn me, I can’t be turned. Bite me, fuck, Derek bite me.”

He screamed as Derek teeth clamped down on his neck, sinking beneath the temporarily vulnerable skin. His orgasm washed over him, mind numbing pleasure washing over him, whiting out his vision. As his brain slowly came back on board, he became aware of a warm, wet sensation on his neck. Derek was licking the bite in long slow strokes. It was surprisingly comforting.

Neither of them had moved yet, Derek lay half on top of him, their release warm and sticky between them. He suspected it would have probably been too much to handle if he was human. Good thing he wasn’t. They should probably move soon or that was going to be a bitch to clean up. Satisfaction thrummed through his veins, his still visible wings curling softly around them once more, blanketing Derek in soft feathers. Derek didn't seem to mind if the contented humming was anything to go by (he would call it purring, but he had a feeling Derek wouldn’t like it). He had stopped licking the bite mark and was now simply nuzzling it with his nose. Too bad he would have to heal it soon, it was far too visible, he couldn’t let his dad see it.

He lay there, warm and content underneath Derek’s weight, listening to the steady thump thump of the other man’s heart beat as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
